


Murphy's Law

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: Metaphysical Determinism [4]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (or does it?), Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Psychic Abilities, Punk Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Remus Mentions but no appearance, the bad day that never ends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.Or,Patton and the terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, background analogical - Relationship, background dukeceit - Relationship
Series: Metaphysical Determinism [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668148
Comments: 29
Kudos: 320





	Murphy's Law

**Author's Note:**

> i’ve had my shame gland removed so there’s a self (and friend!) insert in this because goddammit I wanna work in a magic flower shop and if I can’t have it in real life I Will Create It
> 
> many thanks to my friend Vivi (@trivia-goddess) for beta-reading! she knows way more about dnd than me so we are having a lot of fun.

Some folks might say they woke up and knew it was gonna be a bad day, even if it wasn’t true.

But Patton wasn’t even good at the most basic kinds of divination – all he saw in his tea leaves usually was, well… leaves. He certainly wasn’t a seer.

So when he woke up naturally before his alarm, he was actually pretty pleased! He sat up and stretched, feeling rested and happy and ready for the day.

At least until he turned to look at his clock and realized his alarm had actually just _not gone off_ , and that it was six-thirty in the morning.

Patton yelped, leaping out of bed. He got caught in the blankets and crashed to the floor, scraping his palm on the bedside table on the way down.

He was a whole _hour_ late for work, and if he didn’t get the lead out he wasn’t even gonna make it before they opened at seven – Virgil was probably worried sick!

“Oh, goodness, goodness, _goodness,_ ” Patton muttered, scrambling around his room and throwing on the first clean shirt and at-least-mostly-clean jeans he could find.

He was in the kitchen less than ten minutes later. Virgil would be horrified that Patton was making _instant_ coffee but he definitely needed at least a little caffeine kick before he got behind the wheel.

Patton added a splash of milk and a bunch of sugar and stirred it into the to-go cup, grabbed his bag, phone, and keys in one big swipe, and rushed out the door.

Plopping his stuff into the passenger seat and the cup into the cup-holder, Patton took a deep breath. He’d gotten out of the house in record time – he’d make it before they opened and he could apologize to Virgil for worrying him and making him get ready for the morning rush all by himself. All good!

Patton adjusted the witch’s ladder hanging on the rearview mirror and the satchels over the air conditioner vents, flicking on the radio and humming along cheerfully.

Pulling out into the street, Patton absently reached for his coffee cup and took a sip.

There was the immediate nose-wrinkle that always came along with instant coffee – Patton was expecting that.

But then the drink hit the back of his throat and the sudden, disgusting taste of spoiled milk startled him so bad he dropped the mug.

The lid struck the steering wheel and popped right off.

Yelping, Patton managed to keep control of the car, snapping his eyes to focus on the road. Luckily – a very grumpy part of Patton’s brain that sounded very much like Virgil said the word “luckily” like it was a swear – the coffee hadn’t been all that hot, but that spoiled-milk-taste was now a spoiled-milk- _smell,_ and Patton’s front and the seat were both soaked.

 _That_ was the moment that Patton started to have a bad feeling.

Patton shook his head like he was trying to get water – or the grumpy thoughts – out of his head, pushing his face into a smile.

So the day got off on the wrong foot. It could only go up from here, right?

 _Jinx,_ said Inner-Virgil quietly, and Patton pointedly ignored him.

—

Inner-Virgil could not compare to how frazzled Real-Virgil was, looking up at Patton in a panic when he walked in the back door.

“I’m so sorry, Virge, I know I’m late-”

“Are you okay?” Virgil cut him off anxiously.

Patton blinked.

“Oh,” said Patton, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine – I just forgot to set my alarm,”

Virgil’s shoulders slumped, relaxing.

“Okay,” he said, “Okay, great. Good,”

“I’m so sorry, I know you must have been so busy getting ready to open by yourself,”

“Pat,” said Virgil, smiling in a slightly exhausted way, “It’s fine. I was _way_ more worried something happened to you than about opening the store on my own. I was about to call one of those divination hotlines,”

And well. That didn’t exactly make Patton feel _better_.

Virgil frowned suddenly.

“Are you wet?” he said incredulously, crossing the kitchen to Patton.

“Yeah,” said Patton, “I spilled some coffee on myself-”

“Is that-?”

Virgil winced.

“It smells… off,”

“… Yeah,” Patton repeated, “Well, it just- you know, that’s what I get for not checking the expiration dates on things,”

He laughed, and it sounded a little hollow.

“Okay,” said Virgil, “We’re gonna go upstairs and get you something to change into,”

“You don’t have to, I can-”

“Don’t be silly,” said Virgil, patting him on the shoulder, “I’m sure L’s got something that’ll work if we roll up the pant legs a lot, come on,”

Patton followed him up the back steps, taking the offered clothes and changing in the bathroom. By the time he came back downstairs, Virgil was out in the front, flipping the sign from closed to open, and Patton felt another lance of guilt go through him.

But he was at least clean and not smelly, so he thanked Virgil profusely and volunteered to man the register during the rush because he knew how much Virgil hated it.

He really, _really_ wished that had been the worst of it.

The change of clothes seemed to be the last thing to go right all morning – Patton entered orders wrong, gave people the wrong change, and burned himself on the espresso machine three times in the first hour alone. He misspelled probably half a dozen names, which normally wouldn’t even be a big _deal_ , but of course he misspelled the names of customers who actually _cared_ and snapped and berated him for it, and even his big brother snarling at them to get the hell out of store didn’t make Patton feel any better.

“Pat-” said Vigil quietly after the most recent grumpy customer walked out the door.

“I’m fine!” Patton lied shrilly.

Virgil frowned, anxious and clearly about two seconds away from fretting over Patton like a warlock over a toad and a chicken egg, so Patton just smiled even brighter and scurried back toward the register before Virgil could say anything. Virgil didn’t follow him.

Patton got through another handful of customers with only the typical customer service levels of misery.

Then, Roman walked in.

And, well… it was maybe a little embarrassing, but it was really hard not to feel like the day was done being horrible all at once.

Roman was hands down Patton’s favorite customer – he always had a funny nickname or a drawing on a napkin or a little snatch of a song to share with Patton. Patton had always had a thing for bards – much to Virgil’s chagrin – and Roman was also just as sweet as sugar cookies.

So maybe Patton was pining a little bit, and maybe he sometimes got distracted when Roman wore short sleeves that revealed his heavily tattooed arms (or once, distressed jeans with very strategic holes for the same).  
But frankly Patton was _allowed_ to pine over pretty tattoo artists, no matter what Virgil said about cad bards and trouble-making hooligans, in spite of the fact that Roman had never so much as sent back a drink, let alone _actually_ made trouble.

Roman scanned the store as he entered, his face drawn in worry, and relaxed as soon as he saw Patton, shoulders slumping in relief.

Patton had a half-second to wonder why before the next customer in line snapped in front of his face like he was trying to get a pet dog’s attention, and Patton turned to him with a plastered-on fake smile and started to take his order.

But Virgil must have seen the snap, because in a sudden “coincidence” he wanted to switch places, glaring at the customer with that particular expression that implied Virgil had much more malevolent magics up his sleeve than pastries and coffee-based potions.

Patton pushed through the next couple of customers’ drinks, occasionally glancing up and around to try and catch Roman’s eye again, but Roman seemed to have vanished. The store was busy, but Roman was also very tall, so Patton didn’t really know where he could be hiding.

“Tyler?” he called.

A guy in black stepped forward, grabbing the drink and taking a sip.

“This isn’t what I ordered,” he said immediately.

“Oh, sorry about that-”

“Uh, hi?” said another man in blue behind him, “I’m Tyler?”

Patton tried not to scream.

“If you give me just a second I’ll make you another,” he said through a tight smile.

The man in black sniffed disdainfully as he handed the drink back.

Over his shoulder, Patton saw why he’d been missing Roman in the crowd. Roman was bent low, speaking to one of the other regulars, Sasha. He had his charming smile turned up to megawatt levels as he gripped her forearm and wrote something Patton couldn’t quite make out, but which looked suspiciously like a phone number.

A pit formed in Patton’s stomach, something ugly and jealous and foolishly heartbroken because Roman might be polite and sweet but he’d never done _anything_ to imply he was into Patton, so Patton had absolutely no right to feel so utterly _crushed_ at the sight of him flirting with another customer.

“ _Excuse me!_ ”

Patton startled so bad he dropped the slick-with-condensation drink in his hands.

Iced frappuccino went absolutely everywhere, spilling down the front of Patton’s apron and some splashing up onto his face. Most of it had – mercifully, Patton thought – missed the two customers in front of him, but the one in black had a glob of the drink on his sleeve.

“Oh, you _clumsy little-_ ”

The customer didn’t manage to get anything else out, because that was the moment the day became officially _too much,_ and Patton burst into tears.

“Pat!” exclaimed Virgil, abandoning the register and coming over to cup Patton’s elbows in worry. Patton nearly wailed, hiding his face in his brother’s apron and unable to muster up any embarrassment at the absolute scene he must be making.

“Hey, _hey,_ Pat, small fry, it’s okay,” said Virgil softly, “Come on, c’mere. Andy! Hey, Andy, Missy, come out here!”

Missy poked her head out of the kitchen.

“Switch us,” said Virgil, “Like ten minutes, I’ll be right back,”

“Am I supposed to just wait another ten minutes for my-”

“ _Yes,_ ” snarled Virgil, turning on the customer, “And you’ll do it _quietly_ or I’ll _hex it_ ,”

He got an offended noise in response, but Virgil ignored it as he led Patton into the back.

“Pat-” he started.

“I’m _sorry!_ ” wailed Patton, “I’m so sorry Virgil, I don’t know what’s going _on,_ I think I got _jinxed_ because nothing, nothing, _nothing_ is going right today-”

“Calm down,” said Virgil gently, “You don’t have to apologize, Pat, everyone on the _block_ can tell you’re having an awful day,”

“I _am,_ ” said Patton, morose.

“Oh, small fry,” said Virgil sympathetically, leaning over to kiss Patton on the forehead, “I think you should go home,”

Patton shook his head.

“I can’t just _leave,_ the rush isn’t over-”

“Me and Andy and Miss can handle it,” said Virgil, “Really. And honestly, I _don’t_ want you to have to deal with any more assholes today. If anyone else makes you cry again I really _will_ hex them,”

He smiled.

“Or I’ll get _Logan_ to hex them, there’s an idea,”

“Oh do _not,_ who knows what’ll blow up,” said Patton wetly, laughing in spite of himself. That seemed to be what Virgil was going for, patting Patton gently on the cheek.

“Go home,” he said gently, “Drink a calming potion or – hell, go up to the apartment and see if you can find one of those scrolls with calming spells if you want, I think I have at least one left. Go home and lay down, and I’ll bring you something to eat when I get off work and we’ll binge watch something mindless. Okay?”

Patton sniffed, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand.

“… Okay,”

“Love you very many,”

Patton smiled.

“Love you very many more,”

Virgil wouldn’t let him change back into his own clothes, just said he’d take them back when he came over to Patton’s apartment in the evening. Patton stepped out of the back door and made his way to his car, sitting for several long moments in the small, quiet space with his head tilted back.

Patton wondered if he really was jinxed. He couldn’t think of anyone he knew who _would_ jinx him, or anything he’d done to a stranger that might have caused them to do so, but it was hard not to feel that way with the longest morning of his _life_ right behind him.

What Patton really wanted was something sweet, and specifically he wanted a pick-me-up pastry but he did _not_ want to go back into the shop to buy one, especially after Virgil had all but ordered him to go home.

Pulling out of the parking lot, Patton turned the other way from his apartment.

A quick jaunt to the grocery store to get a tub of ice cream to wallow in, and then Patton was going to go home and wait for this awful, horrible day to be over with forever.

—

Despite what many rude people had told him over the course of his life, Patton knew he was not actually dumb.

But toil and twenty kinds of trouble did he _feel_ dumb right now.

“Come on, _please,_ sweetie, don’t do this,”

He turned the key in the ignition and nothing happened.

“Oh, Eve and all her _daughters!_ ” he exclaimed miserably.

He glared in frustration at the satchels and the witch’s ladder, knowing that _this_ turn of events, at least, was entirely his own fault.

So _maybe,_ when his car had started sputtering and slipping every once in a while, he should have taken it to a _mechanic_ and not just covered the poor thing in good luck charms and ignored it.

But it wasn’t like he’d _planned_ it – he’d _meant_ to get to a car shop… at some point, he’d really only meant for the charms to be temporary.

Well. “Temporary” certainly seemed to have turned out _accurate._

He should have just gone _home._ He would have made it home, but he _hadn’t_ made it to the grocery store, and he was now stranded on the side of the road in the complete opposite direction of his apartment from the coffee shop.

Sighing in resignation, Patton leaned over to the passenger seat and dug out his phone, swiping to unlock it.

Frowning, he swiped again. He double-tapped the screen, and then he clicked the button on the back with a little more force than was really necessary.

Nothing.

With dawning horror, Patton tried to think back to this morning – had he checked the time on his phone? Or only the clock? Had he looked at his phone at _all_ before he’d walked out the door?

He hadn’t forgotten to set his _alarm_ – he hadn’t _plugged in the phone_ to the _charger._

Letting out a short screech of frustration, Patton tossed the phone into the passenger seat and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes to stem the flow of furious, frustrated tears from welling up in his eyes.

Okay. _Fine._ No phone. Patton was just-

He sighed.

He was just gonna have to walk back to the coffee shop. Maybe Logan would be out of class by then and could drive him home, or who _knows_ maybe Virgil’s shift would be ending, because Patton certainly had no clue how long it took to walk that far.

Gathering up the most important of his things, Patton climbed out of the car, locked the doors, and started walking.

On the bright side – Patton really was a very “bright side” kind of person, so hearing that particular phrase in his Inner-Sarcastic-Virgil voice was a little jarring – Patton had dressed for a shift in a pastry shop. He was wearing sturdy, comfortable shoes that he’d already long since built up callouses for, so he – probably – wouldn’t get blisters from the long walk ahead.

Probably. _Hopefully._

He _wasn’t_ wearing a coat, though, just his everyday gray cat hoodie, which he pulled a little tighter around himself as the wind started to pick up.

And then the sky gradually began to darken to gray, and Patton’s stomach dropped all the way to his feet.

“Don’t,” he muttered, “C’mon, don’t. Please don’t, pretty, _pretty please_ don’t start-”

The softest rumble of thunder in the distance, and a drop of wetness landed on Patton’s cheek.

“- _Raining,_ ” he grumbled, throwing his head back and almost screaming in frustration.

It wasn’t like it was pouring, but it was just chilly enough when combined with the now-biting wind for Patton to be wet, sad, and absolutely miserable as he trekked the next twenty minutes in the rain, furiously holding back the flood of tears in his eyes making his vision blurry.

He was thoroughly soaked and hopelessly cold by the time he started getting close. He was, at least, on the right street now, though he had several blocks still to go.

When he walked past Serpent Underneath, he came to an abrupt halt – the lights were still on, and Patton could see someone moving inside. Probably Devin, who was always friendly when Patton came to get ingredients from him.

Patton _ached_ with the force of his want to see a friendly face and _not be cold_ for even a moment. Instead of continuing down the street, he moved toward the door to the flower shop and pushed it open.

It was Devin, behind the counter and his back to the door, moving stacks of boxes. There were two other employees who Patton was sure he’d met before but couldn’t remember their names off the top of his head, one of them sweeping the floor and the other stacking empty flower pots at one of the tables.

Devin turned over his shoulder to call out, but he didn’t quite look at Patton when he did.

“We close early on Fridays,” he said gently, “You have a little less than ten minutes, just so you know,”

For the second time today, Patton started sobbing.

Devin spun, his expression melting into horror, rushing around the counter with his hands outstretched.

“Patton!?” he exclaimed, “Patton, what on Gaia’s green earth is- you’re _soaked,_ did you walk here? Why are you crying-?”

“Uh-oh,” said the taller of the other employees.

Patton just cried even harder, and Devin tutted, rushing past him to close and lock the door before bundling Patton into his arms and squeezing him.

“Oh, I don’t know who made you cry, sweet pea, but I’m going to sick my big scary boyfriend on them as soon as I find out,”

Patton managed a small snort through his tears, and Devin gently guided him through the tiered shelves of flowers and into the back room. Wrapping Patton in a heavy blanket, he went about making a cup of tea in the small kitchenette while occasionally coming back to hug Patton again, soothing his hand over Patton curls.

“I- I’m h-having an _awful_ day,” Patton sobbed.

“Oh, poppet,” said Devin softly, pressing the mug into Patton’s hand, “I can tell,”

It had been a few months, but Patton still wasn’t quite used to how much _sincerity_ Devin could put into just one sentence now that his curse was broken. Even so, he definitely appreciated it.

Patton sipped at the tea, which was floral and sweet and clearly either a calming potion or laced with one, because Patton felt his head dip with the sudden wave of warm relaxation. His shoulders loosened a little from their tense knots, and he certainly didn’t feel _good,_ or even _really_ calm, but he did feel just a little less like he was going to throw up from the force of his misery.

Standing next to Patton’s chair, Devin let Patton press his sniffling face into his chest, not complaining even good-naturedly about the spots of salty tears Patton was leaving behind on his shirt.

“There you go,” said Devin, patting his hair, “Let it all out, it’s okay,”

They sat in silence for several long minutes, the only sound the occasional cracked sob or sniffle from Patton, or furtive shuffling by the door that Patton suspected was Devin’s coworkers peaking in – Devin ignored all of it, just soothed his hands over Patton’s curls and crooned in a comforting way every minute or so.

There was a sudden, aggressive knock at the front door, and Patton made a forlorn noise when Devin pulled away.

“Hey, it’s alright,” said Devin, ducking down to smile at him, “That’s your rescue, damsel,”

“Rescue?” croaked Patton, but Devin just wiped a few stray tears with his knuckles and patted him on the cheek.

“Dany, Violet, can one of you let Roman in please?”

Roman-?

Shuffling, and the jingle of the front door’s bell – and a handful of moments later, Roman rushed through the back room doorway.

“ _Pat,_ ” he said, his face absolutely stricken.

“Roman?” said Patton, confused, “What- what are you doing here?”

Roman let out a sheepish laugh and held up his hands, laden with several bags.

“I’m sort of the cavalry,” he said, flushing, “I- I’m really sorry, Patton,”

Patton didn’t have the chance to ask what on earth Roman was apologizing for – unless of course it was _Roman_ who had hexed his day, which Patton doubted – before Roman started unloading the bags.

“Here you go, Damsel Pat-a-baker,” he said, handing Patton a change of clothes.

Patton sniffed, setting his tea aside and taking the clothes.

“These are mine?” he said, baffled.

“Yeah,” said Roman, rubbing the back of his neck, “I, uh- I stopped by the coffee shop again, bugged your brother. He had his boyfriend get them from your apartment,”

That… didn’t really make much more sense. Patton hadn’t been here that long – Roman couldn’t have gotten any text from Devin and had time to do all that.

“Go change,” said Roman gently, grasping Patton’s hand in his own briefly, and Patton felt his face flush even as he stammered a reply and went to do so in the bathroom.

Patton returned just as Roman let out a triumphant noise, to him pressing Patton’s phone back into his hand.

“I, uh- what?” said Patton.

“One use phone charge,” said Roman, waving the little charm in his hand. Patton’s phone started pinging, catching up on text messages, and Patton saw all the missed texts from Virgil, both from this morning when he’d been late to work and this afternoon as Virgil sent him increasingly frantic questions about his whereabouts.

 _Romans on his way,_ said the last one – which was _bizarre_ because Virgil could barely stand Roman – _Text me when you get this._

Patton shot off the text, still feeling sharply off-kilter. What was going _on_ right now-?

“Oh-!” said Roman abruptly, “And- your hands, of course-”

He held out his own palms.

“May I?”

Too baffled to ask why, Patton offered his hands, and Roman took them gently in his and lifted them.

For one brief, thrilling second, Patton thought Roman was going to _kiss them_ – and he immediately shoved that thought very far down with the memory of Roman scrawling his phone number on that girl’s arm this morning – but Roman didn’t. He hummed a short, simple tune, and then blew gently across Patton’s palms.

Cool air brushed over his skin – _too_ cold, unnaturally so, and right before Patton’s eyes the burns on his hands from this morning lightened from red and angry to faint pink, barely raised.

“I only know the one healing spell,” said Roman sheepishly, “It’s a little- that is, it isn’t particularly powerful, but I hope it, um. Soothed a little of your discomfort,”

A high pitched sound came from the doorway, and Patton flushed when he turned and saw Devin’s coworkers standing there, peeking around the doorway. The squeaking was coming from the shorter one – Patton was pretty sure that was Dany - and she was bouncing on her toes in excitement, while the other, Violet, was just beaming with their chin tucked over the top of her head.

“Okay, show’s over,” said Devin fondly, “This is a flower shop, not a movie theater – I don’t pay you to spy,”

“Right,” said Violet, “You pay us to look pretty, of course,”

“Obviously,” drawled Devin.

“Have a good day!” said Dany, waving cheerfully as Devin shooed them out of the doorway.

 _Too late,_ thought Patton, which was kind of uncharacteristically bitter of him, but he waved back at Dany with- with half his hand, sort of. Because Roman was still… holding his hands.

Maybe- _maybe_ , Patton’s heart said, treacherously hopeful as always – the day could still be good. Or at least- the second half could be better.

“Thank you,” said Patton softly.

“It’s no trouble at all,” said Roman, which was- clearly not _true,_ because Roman had obviously gone to a _lot_ of trouble, run a whole smattering of errands to rescue Patton from his awful day but… Roman didn’t seem like he was just placating him. He seemed to mean it.

“Come on,” said Roman, dropping one of Patton’s hands and pulling him toward the door, “Let’s get out of here – I think the rain has lightened a bit, and my car’s right by the door,”

“Um… okay,” said Patton.

Roman grinned, and the hope in Patton’s chest swelled like rising bread dough, and Patton let it.

—

Roman didn’t take him home, like Patton thought he would.

And he didn’t take him to the coffee shop, either which would have been his second guess – Roman muttered as he drove, checking the mirrors _way_ more often than Patton had ever seen someone do while driving, enough that it was kind of distracting. But eventually Roman made a victorious noise and a slightly abrupt turn, and a few minutes later had them pulling in front of an ice cream shop.

Roman rushed out of the car and nearly ran to the passenger side, opening Patton’s door with a flourish, and Patton felt his heartbeat in his _throat._ Roman offered his hand for the second time today, guiding Patton out of the car and leading him toward the door.

“What would you like?” said Roman, leading Patton into a booth and smoothing his thumb over the back of Patton’s palm.

“I…”

Patton just kind of stared at him, and Roman smiled encouragingly.

“Anything you want, Patton,” he said, “I’ll go get it and be right back,”

Biting his lip, Patton wavered for several moments before nodding hesitantly.

“Cookie dough?” he said quietly.

“Would you like a cone or a cup?” said Roman, just as soft.

“A cup,” said Patton, “Please,”

“Of course,”

Roman squeezed his hand once before letting go, making his way to the counter.

He returned with what had to be the largest size they had of cookie dough ice cream, and his own a bright crimson that could only be red velvet. Roman cheerfully filled the quiet with chatter in between bites of ice cream, beaming every time he got a giggle or even a smile out of Patton, and the knot in Patton’s stomach that had taken up residence all day gradually continued to unwind.

“Thank you,” said Patton, “For the ice cream,”

“Of course,” said Roman, “It was my pleasure, B-Pat Major Cutie,”

Patton giggled, flushing, and Roman grinned at him.

And that was how the afternoon continued.

Roman again, didn’t take him home – the next stop was a sleek, modern building that Patton had driven by several times, but never been in. Somehow, he didn’t manage to connect it to the indoor botanical gardens until they were already inside and Patton was surrounded by a riot of color.

“I- Roman-” he said, voice cracking.

“Yes?”

Roman seemed oddly nervous, which Patton couldn’t quite place the source of. It almost- this was almost starting to seem like a _date_ , but that- that couldn’t be right, could it? Roman was just… trying to cheer Patton up after his bad day.

But then Patton circled right back to how Roman seemed to be _perfectly_ intuitive about how to go about fixing Patton’s day, and was floundering all over again.

Roman had adamantly refused to let Patton pay for his own entry at the door, and the “Is this a date?” question just seemed to get bigger and bigger as the afternoon went on.

Roman snapped pictures of Patton in the garden, with his own and Patton’s phones, occasionally shooting his favorites off to his brother or Devin or even Virgil and Logan, especially in the butterfly room. He disappeared for a few minutes and Patton almost panicked, like Roman was a charm against the bad day and everything would be ruined if Patton lost him, but Roman returned without any incidents except to press a pale blue butterfly plush from the gift shop into Patton’s hands.

Roman was toweringly tall, where Patton landed squarely in too-many-hobbit-genes-for-most-shelves, and Roman took advantage of the difference, using his own body to shield Patton from the press of the crowd and carve paths through it to guide Patton passed the worst of it.

By the time the afternoon light began to dim, hours later, Patton felt like he’d been walking around all day with steel weights hanging from his shoulders only to have them abruptly lifted away. He was nearly dizzy with the relief of it, and when they stepped out of the building and the sky was gradually turning gray and ominous like it might rain again, Roman swept off his red leather jacket in one motion and draped it gingerly over Patton’s shoulders.

Patton was starting to wonder if his heart wasn’t going to pop like an overfilled balloon.

As they got into Roman’s car, Roman pulled out his phone. Opening up some kind of take-out app Patton didn’t recognize, Roman asked him what sort of Elvish food he liked.

“I-”

Swallowing thickly, Patton cleared his throat.

“Roman,” he said, “You- you’ve already done so _much,_ you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” said Roman, reaching over to squeeze Patton’s arm, “Really. Wood Scout’s honor,”

Patton laughed, and it came out a little wet.

“You certainly don’t look like you were ever a Wood Scout,” he said.

“I am a man of many hats,” said Roman with a little wink.

Flushing, Patton shrugged.

“I don’t really get Elvish all that often,” said Patton, “I’m not sure,”

“Do you like fruit?”

“Who doesn’t like fruit?” said Patton incredulously.

“Then I’m sure we can find something,” said Roman, “Elvish food is very fruit-heavy, my mom can eat more peaches than any ten humans,”

“I _love_ peaches,” said Patton.

“Perfect!” said Roman jovially, “I’ll just get you my mom’s order, I have it saved,”

After a short drive and Roman ducking into the restaurant (which was very close to Patton’s house, but had no sign – Patton hadn’t even known it was there) to get the boxes, he returned laden with bags. The smell was something, for sure – a strange but pleasant mix of sweet and savory.

“Do you wanna eat in the car, or go home?” said Roman.

Part of Patton _did_ want to go home, almost desperately – to sit on his own couch or even just crawl in bed, maybe with a stuffed cuddly friend.

But- but _Roman._ Roman was here, and being… sweeter than Patton had any right to expect, because Roman wasn’t his boyfriend and was only his friend in the distant kind of way Patton was friends with all the regulars, no matter that Roman was his favorite.

He didn’t want it to be over. Especially if this was… just a one-off thing, Roman coming to the rescue for Patton’s bad day. Patton wanted to stay here as long as he could.

“Can we eat in here?” he said quietly.

“Of course, Pat,” said Roman, “Here, I got you some roasted peaches, honey bread and strawberry chicken,”

“Strawberry _what?_ ” said Patton incredulously.

“Chicken!” said Roman, “My mother makes it too but hers has jalapeños as well. This place’s isn’t spicy, though,”

Patton was pretty familiar with strawberries – bakery, and all – and chicken, too, for that matter, but combining them seemed dubious at best.

He was happily surprised – it was sweet, but not like a pastry, and the chicken balanced it out. Patton ate the whole container, except for the cheerful bites Roman stole with the help of the extra-long Elvish fork. Patton didn’t mind, because Roman had also let him dip his bread into Roman’s fish soup, another odd combination Patton turned out to adore.

They split the peaches, and the little container of meadowcream, though “splitting” was being generous considering Patton had gone pretty crazy for the combination of whipped cream, honey, and a whole bunch of bright, fresh herbs.

And the whole time – they talked. In between bites of warm, sweet fruit and tangy chicken Roman complained good-naturedly about his mom’s food being better than the take-out even if it was less convenient. He cheerfully regaled Patton with tales of particularly ridiculous tattoos he’d done or outright refused to do – apparently Roman knew English, Spanish, and High Elvish, which was already impressive, but still wouldn’t do a tattoo in anything he _didn’t_ speak without triple-checking at the _minimum_ that it said what the person seemed to think it did.

“Well, what about your own tattoos?” said Patton, glancing over Roman’s bare arms, “Do you have any words?”

“Just one,” said Roman, “In Latin, and yes I did check just as much. Wouldn’t want a mistranslation permanently inked on, the healing spells for removing tattoos are _expensive,_ you know,”

Which devolved into Roman listing his own tattoos, pointing them out at first – three bright birds that looked like they were colored with splashes of paint on his forearm-

“My dad, my mom, and my brother,” said Roman, gesturing to each bird in turn.

Beside it, around his wrist, was a circle of butterflies like a bracelet over raised lines, that Roman didn’t describe and Patton didn’t push; on the opposite wrist, a simple staff with music notes -

“First melody I ever wrote,”

Higher up on his forearm, an intricate red and gold shield-

“The first one I designed all on my own,”

Further up still, on his bicep, a delicate gold-wire frame and stars in a familiar-looking pattern-

“Gemini constellation,”

And Patton was so engrossed in the stories, the meaning and thoughts behind all of them – because Roman had clearly picked them with _hours_ of thought – that he didn’t notice when Roman had switched from pointing at them to taking Patton’s smaller hands in his and guiding them to touch. He didn’t notice how close they’d gotten, or how dim it had become in the car as the blue twilight fell, or how soft Roman’s voice had gone, until it trailed off entirely.

Patton looked up.

Roman’s expression was… big. Almost too big, for the space in the car, especially with everything Patton could feel in the space with it.

His hands in Roman’s. The sound of their breathing, hitched and unsteady, both of them. The whole car smelling like fruit and food and happy stories and _lov-_

“I’m so sorry, Patton,” Roman blurted suddenly.

The moment broke, but Patton couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Swallowing, he tried to put his head back into order to speak.

“You said that,” Patton replied, soft, “At the flower shop. But-”

He shook his head.

“I don’t understand – why are you apologizing? You didn’t- it’s not like _you_ jinxed me,”

Roman bit his lip, squeezing Patton’s hands in his.

“It’s-”

Sighing, he squeezed again, shutting his eyes.

“I just wish I’d gotten to you sooner,” he said sadly.

Patton’s hand came up on autopilot, tentatively stroking some of Roman’s hair behind his ear, and Roman’s eyes were startled open but he didn’t pull away.

“What do you mean?” said Patton, “You came as soon as Devin texted you. I don’t think you _could_ have come any faster,”

“… Devin _didn’t_ text me,” Roman admitted, “ _I_ texted _him,”_

Patton blinked in confusion, and Roman gave him a wry smile.

“I saw you,” he said, “In the mirror when I woke up this morning,”

Patton’s confusion turned into outright bafflement.

“It doesn’t always work,” said Roman, “Sometimes – you know, clairvoyance, it can be picky. Fuzzy, indistinct, or sometimes just a flash in a puddle, but-”

Roman placed a warm hand over Patton’s which made Patton realize he’d never pulled away, his hand cradling Roman’s jaw.

“But you- you are always perfectly clear,” he said, “And I can’t – I can’t turn it off, so I usually just try to ignore it, because I’m not some kind of- stalker, I swear,”

Swallowing, he pressed on, his voice gaining a little more confidence as he went.

“And this morning, you looked- utterly miserable. And I couldn’t- I couldn’t just do nothing, so I decided to visit you at work this morning to cheer you up,”

Roman shook his head.

“But it just kept getting _worse,_ and I missed you at Apothe-café, so I went looking. I saw you in the grocery store, but-”

“I meant to go,” said Patton, the pieces of his day, all of Roman’s strangely specific intuition fitting together into the puzzle all at once, “But the car-”

“Broke down,” said Roman, nodding, “And when I made it to the car, you were already gone. I saw you at the cafe next so I went back to wait on you, and had an-”

Roman shuddered.

“Absolutely _terrifying_ conversation with your brother, but I got you a change of clothes and the charm from the kitschy shop next door, and then I saw you at Devin’s. I left as soon as I did, and texted him to keep you there because I didn’t want to miss you again, and I figured even if you did leave, you were walking from the flower shop to the cafe, and they’re on the same road, so I’d see you,”

His gaze fell, staring firmly at Patton’s chest.

“I know it… was a little invasive of me,” he said, “And I couldn’t even- manage to catch up to you soon enough to stop any of it, so I’m terribly sorry about that, as well-”

“Stop,” said Patton quietly.

Roman’s mouth shut with an audible click, and then turned into a sheepish, strained smile. He didn’t pull away from Patton’s hand on his face.

The silence stretched and Patton waited for something, anything, that indicated everything was about to go horribly wrong again – someone rear-ending the car, or to notice they’d knocked over one of the take-out containers, or for Roman to take back any part of what he’d said.

Nothing happened, and Patton let out a slow breath.

“So,” he croaked, “I would really, um. I would _really_ be just- pleased as peaches if I could kiss you right now,”

“Oh, thank goodness,” breathed Roman, surging forward to catch Patton’s mouth in a warm, dizzying kiss.

Patton tasted meadowcream and roasted peaches and smelled the woody musk of art pencils on Roman’s hands for only a few moments, before all his senses were only _Roman,_ broad palms cradling Patton’s face and warm breath shared between them and soft, pleased hums every time Patton drew Roman’s lips between his.

“Ages,” Roman murmured into Patton’s mouth, “ _Ages_ I’ve wanted to do that,”

“Aren’t we a pair?” said Patton, laughing tremulously, “I just- you’re so nice, but I never thought… you just didn’t seem interested,”

“Pat,” laughed Roman, ducking down to bump their noses, “You work in food service. I wasn’t going to _hit on you_ at _work,_ ”

“… Oh,”

“Yeah, oh,” said Roman, soft and fond, brushing a few errant brown curls away from Patton’s face.

“I thought you were giving someone your phone number this morning,” admitted Patton, because they were confessing things, he supposed, “And I feel a little dumb now,”

Roman laughed incredulously.

“Definitely not,” he said, “She was asking about the tattoo shop’s number, not mine. I’ve been- Patton I’ve been gone on you for years,”

“I know,” said Patton wetly.

Because _this_ , today, everything Roman had done – there was no doubt in Patton’s mind that Roman meant exactly what he’d said. Roman had spent half the day chasing Patton on a quest to rescue him and the second half doing _just that._ Bringing him dry clothes and phone chargers and buying him fancy ice cream and a butterfly plush and elvish take-out when Roman just as easily could have ignored the visions in the mirror and let Patton face the day alone.

But he hadn’t. He’d gone out of his way, over and over again, just for Patton.

“I’m really gone on you too,” said Patton, sniffing.

“Hey, Wendy Witch, don’t cry,”

“It’s happy-crying, it’s goodie gumdrops,” said Patton, laughing thickly, “I’m all good, except- except I sorta _really_ wanna kiss you again,”

Roman leaned in and pressed their lips firmly without a moment’s hesitation, smiling lightly against Patton’s mouth. Giving Patton an extra little punctuating peck, he pulled back, beaming.

“Consider me delighted to supply you kisses whenever you wish, darling,” said Roman, “You need only ask,”

So Patton just… kept asking, and Roman kept obliging. And, trading kisses back and forth in the dimming light of a strip mall parking lot, Patton thought to himself that he really couldn’t have asked for a better end to the day.

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me at @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors on tumblr and i would absolutely love to take questions about this verse i have,,, so many ideas yall


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